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The first time they fuck, Kim has been thinking about it for a long, long time beforehand. He would never admit to the amount of time and research he’s poured into this particular thought project. But it’s been a thought project ever since Harry walked dazed out of Nix Gottlieb’s office for an unexplained routine visit.
His exact words to Kim were, “So, turns out I have a vagina.”
Kim would be ashamed to admit the thought became a bit of an obsession of his. His feelings for Harry were already embarrassingly uncontrolled, and he knew they were getting out of hand when he leapt at the opportunity to join the 41st at the very first mention of transfer. He didn’t even think, never even dared hope he would ever have an opportunity to be closer to Harry than work colleagues.
By the time he’s slowly, chastely making out with Harry in his bedroom, in his fresh newly moved in apartment in Jamrock, he’s made so many preparations for this exact moment that he thought would never come, the very thought of his eagerness coats him in a deep and gooey shame. Luckily, his partner is a mindreader, and a chronic and interminable nightstand drawer snoop, so Kim will never have to directly tell Harry how he spent an age researching the safest lubricants, the likelihood of pregnancy, and the tastiest preventatives for infections for those with shorter urethras.
Kim is fully prepared for a slow, sensuous buildup, a night of trial and error and false starts as he learns the ropes and ultimately is too nervous to do anything but service Harry. Instead, in the middle of the two of them necking like boys in love, Harry grinds his hips against Kim’s, and Kim gasps as he realizes he can feel Harry’s pulse against the top of his thigh. Harry whines as Kim nips his ear, “Kim, I need you inside me. Now.”
Kim groans, his face and ears growing hot, as he reaches down and tugs down the waistband of Harry’s FALN sweats and white briefs. His heart pounds as his fingers trail through the hair on Harry’s inner thighs and find them damp, slick. He finds his fingers slipping almost uncontrollably to the source of the slickness, much, much too warm to be lubricant. He dips his middle finger in and out of the wetness and then finds Harry’s cock, much larger than he ever would have expected, and he rubs the underside gently. Harry bucks in his hand, and Kim tries to pull back, having heard that the cock can be overstimulated easily.
Instead, Harry whines. “Don’t. Don’t. Please, don’t tease me, Kim,” he pants against Kim’s mouth, thrusting his cock into Kim’s hand as hard as he can, almost enough to crush Kim’s fingers. “I need your cock in me. Fuck me.”
Kim chuckles. “Okay, okay. Just give me a moment.”
So he does. He throws Harry back onto the bed (quietly brimming with pride at Harry’s frightened yelp at Kim’s show of strength) and gets up to retrieve a condom from his bomber jacket, tossed aside on the back of a chair.
“No, don’t bother. I can’t get pregnant. Gottlieb said I have nothing…” He gestures to his abdomen with broad circling gestures. “No things. Up here. Nothing.”
“That’s not the only reason to wear a condom, Harry,” Kim sighs, pulling out his wallet and searching. “…Shit.” It really has been years since Kim has had a sex life. He doesn’t have a single condom left. He never thought to replenish his stash.
“I got cleared STD free, too. You have nothing to worry about. I have the paper and everything.”
Kim tosses his wallet on his desk, frustrated, mentally preparing himself to not have his dick touched tonight. “That’s good. I trust you. But…” He looks at Harry’s pitiful gray-green stare. “…You don’t know me. You don’t know if I have anything.”
“Do you?” Harry sounds almost fascinated. Kim has to stifle a laugh.
“That’s not the point. Probably not, but I haven’t been tested in years.” He sucks his teeth. “Harry… we might have to postpone. There are other things we can do-”
“Whatever you have, I’ll have. I won’t love anyone else after you. I know it.”
“Harry,” Kim snaps, face bright red at this point. His heart is slamming in his ribcage and his fading erection is suddenly standing back at full attention after hearing that. It’s pathetic and disgusting and it’s just so damned romantic at the same time and he’s just a damned animal after all and he curses himself for it.
But he reasons with himself, Harry’s right, it’s a bit silly to leave this on a technicality. He knows he doesn’t have anything. So with a quiet, muttered “fuck it”, he pulls his shirt off over his head and rips his briefs the rest of the way off and practically runs over to join Harry, who’s lying face down on the bed with his ass waving haughtily in the air.
“Your cock is so fucking beautiful. Promise me you’ll be rough,” Harry sighs against Kim’s lips.
“Quiet you.” Kim leans back and admires Harry’s ass, then gently pulls Harry’s lips apart with his thumbs, revealing that little pink hole with creamy liquid dripping out of it. Harry moans indulgently, shoving his hips further up in the air. “Look at you…” Kim smiles. “Your body is begging for my cock.” His thumb traces a wet circle around Harry’s hole and Harry moans louder, like he’s truly suffering. “You can’t even hide it.” The knowledge is enough to get drunk on.
“Kim, fuck. Kim. I’m going to go crazy. Please!”
And when Kim enters him, he starts slow, used to the slow drag of entering an asshole. But he’s surprised when he feels himself practically being pulled inside of Harry, like every muscle in Harry’s body is conspiring to make sure he dies swallowed up inside of Harry’s wet cunt. “Fuck,” he gasps. He finds himself bottomed out in an instant, luxuriating in the soft, hot feeling of Harry around his cock. “Is this okay?” He asks, a formality more than anything, as he’s already begun pulling himself out, out, until his tip is the only thing left breaching Harry’s entrance.
“Yes!” Harry pants as Kim slams back inside of him, a spray of stars behind his eyes as Kim’s hips shove him into the bed.
Kim repeats this process once, twice, three more times, relishing the way Harry’s grunts coincide with the air rushing out of his lungs upon impact. And then realizes this isn’t what he planned on doing tonight. He wanted to romance Harry, show him how considerate a lover he could be, show him all that he’d learned over the past few weeks. He shakes his head, gathering himself, and stills his hips.
He slowly, cautiously places his hand on Harry’s head, trails his fingers through Harry’s soft long hair, looking for any signs of Harry’s displeasure and only seeing Harry’s eyes flutter in ecstasy. He grabs a hefty fistful of hair and pulls Harry’s head up off the bed, greeted by Harry’s blissful sigh. “You like it?” Kim asks, teasing.
“I do,” Harry laughs, falling into a moan as Kim pulls his hair harder.
Kim readjusts his focus to the joining of their bodies. He breathes steadily through his nostrils as he slowly slides his cock in and around Harry, looking for a better angle, searching, dragging his cockhead across every bump and valley inside this man, until he hears a hitch in Harry’s breath, feels Harry’s hips jerk in surprise, and that’s when he knows he’s found it.
He watches Harry’s face as he begins a slow and tortured quest to drag his head across that spot inside of Harry again and again, and he is not disappointed. Harry’s face cycles through a barrage of silent expressions, his face flushing, until finally Harry vocalizes his pleasure. “Ki—iiimm….” he groans, lower than Kim has ever heard him. It’s almost a croak. Harry’s slack jawed in pure bliss.
“There we go.”
Kim pushes Harry’s head back into the pillows, smiling as Harry whines, muffled. He adores this man. He begins moving his cockhead faster inside of him, and Harry lifts his head up, his expression almost pained, desperate, as he tries to look back at Kim, but just moans instead. “Kim--! I’m, I forgot to tell you, I’m--!”
And whatever Harry tries to explain gets lost as Kim feels something hot, some liquid splashing his balls, and he thinks, that can’t be, can it? He hadn’t read about this, but it seems to be so, and Kim instinctively knows this is his doing, as Harry begins moaning louder, louder, crying out, sprays of hot cum coat Kim and the bed, more urgent than before, causing Kim to gasp in surprise. Kim can feel Harry tightening around him and his orgasm rushes him, takes him by surprise.
“Fuck…!” Kim tries to pull out before he comes inside of Harry, not wanting to overstep, but he fails, and by the time the tip of his cock leaves Harry, he’s already coming, embarrassingly forcefully for a man his age, a jet of cum streaking across both Harry and the bed. “Fuck,” he curses again, hand stroking his cock, trying to come on the bed instead of on Harry, embarrassed and angry with himself and overcome with the intensity of orgasm all at the same time.
When Harry recovers, rolls over on his back and looks at Kim, he sees Kim’s shocked expression, and his face falls, suddenly worried he’s upset Kim somehow. “You okay?”
“Yes, I… Harry, I haven’t come like that since I was in my twenties,” Kim breathes, dumbfounded. He wipes his hand off on the bedsheet and stands up, getting ready to begin the cleanup process. His eyes wander down from Harry’s face to his cunt, dripping with Kim’s cum mixed with Harry’s, and Kim’s ears burn with embarrassment as he looks away. “Just that there was… Khm. There was a lot.”
“Right. That’s good. I actually have a theory about that. It’s to do with the- you know. Sorry, I didn’t tell you earlier about the um…”
“The… squirting?” Kim finishes for him, the dumb, sheepish smile on his face betraying his happiness.
They both head to the restroom to clean up. Harry sits on the toilet to piss while Kim wets a towel with warm water to clean himself off.
“Yeah. I-I didn’t think it’d happen when we were together.”
“What- You didn’t think we would have sex?”
“No, I knew. Well, I hoped. Fuck. Seems too good to be true, really.” Kim gazes warmly at Harry. He feels the same way. He’ll tell Harry some day. “No, even during sex. It doesn’t usually happen. Only when… erm…” Harry trails off, unsure how to explain this.
Kim waits patiently, not wanting to embarrass Harry about the workings of his body. He’s unsure how sensitive Harry is about it, if he’s had bad experiences with unaccepting partners.
“…Well….I usually only squirt when someone milks me like a fucking cow.”
Kim barks a laugh, then devolves into a coughing fit.
--
He wonders how Dora reacted, and how long Dora was around for- if Dora knew Harry before he knew who he was- if she saw him change from child to man. A part of him envies her the experience, but knows it mustn’t have been easy, and it seems to have broken them both.
“Does Officer Vicquemare know you’re a… convert?” He winces at his own phrasing, not knowing a less rude term for what Harry is.
Harry nods. “I kinda wish he didn’t. I have a feeling it changed our relationship.”
“How so?”
“He dads me a little. Talks to me like I’m half a man some times.”
Kim scoffs. “If he’s any sense he would aspire to be half the man you are,” he mutters bitterly, memories of the Satellite-Officer visiting him in the hospital flashing in his mind.
Stupidly, when he heard someone from the RCM was here to visit him, he had hoped it was Harry coming to visit him. It makes him angry to remember it now. The moments before Officer Vicquemare stepped in to disappoint him, his drug-addled mind allowed him to fantasize, to bask in the possibility that the strange madman from the 41st was here to see him, arriving with a modest bouquet of flowers (lilies mostly, but not too many, and not very fragrant) and some of Kim’s favorite Graadian Gelatins (how had he guessed?). In moments he would arrive with a fresh pair of snakeskin shoes and a bright ostentatious new suit, his visage injured and cut up but in a flattering way, and his face would light up as soon as he laid eyes on Kim. He would rush over and crush the bouquet between their bodies and he’d kiss Kim squarely on the lips.
He would pull back and look slightly horrified, and Kim would betray nothing on his face, and the detective from the 41st would say, I’m terribly sorry. You looked so irresistible I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. I thought I would lose you forever. Over the hours we’ve spent together, I’ve fallen so hard and so fast for you I can think of nothing else in my waking hours but your beautiful little decollatage and your slight but strong frame. A fantasy that was so embarrassingly off the mark, yet somehow thrillingly similar to Harry’s own visit a day later.
In reality, Harry had rushed in, with absolutely no gifts, still stinking of piss and guano and blood and garbage, and he ran for Kim as though he were going to hug him, but stopped short, stammering, placing a hesitant hand on Kim’s hand, then on his arm, then on his chest, horribly flustered. He had cried, “I thought I’d lost you. I didn’t know where you were. I’m so happy I could kiss you. Fucking hell, I want to kiss you. No. Forget I said that. I don’t know what I’m saying. I just…” A hiccup. A sob. “I think we were meant to meet each other. Have you been thinking that, too? You weren’t supposed to get shot- we were supposed to solve the case together. I’m sorry, I know this is fucking insane. We just met. Fuck, how do you still look so good?”
Kim couldn’t help genuinely smiling and laughing, and with one eye still swollen shut, he said simply, “Kiss me, you fool.” And he did.
--
He’s so used to the preparation, the diet, the cleanup, and the quick, frantic pace of lovemaking between two men that always left Kim wanting more, wishing he could savor it. To Kim, fucking someone like Harry is an extension of this already existing tableau of underground sex, simply a variation on his existing rituals. It doesn't occur to Kim that this means they can fuck anywhere, anytime.
One day, after Kim sits through an impromptu “shitkid” performance review by Satellite-Officer Vicquemare, he pats Harry’s shoulder for a smoke break. They’re barely twenty feet away from C Wing. Kim backs Harry up into a utility closet in the old silk mill and kisses him til they’re out of breath, then kisses him some more.
He’s expecting to have to calm himself down afterwards. When his erection strains so hard on his pants zipper that it starts to hurt, and he begins to pull away and Harry whines, “No, please, fuck me,” Kim’s even a little annoyed, a little defensive. About to tell Harry he’s being unreasonable, until Harry pulls Kim’s hand and brings it to the dampness between his legs. “Please, Kim. Fuck me. I need your cock in me right now.”
“Holy shit!” Harry barks a laugh at Kim’s uncharacteristic outburst. Kisses him to show his approval.
Kim slides a finger in Harry’s eager cunt, marveling at all the ways it’s so like his own body, a straightforward interface with a little button that makes the man go “ooh”. With his other hand he slides Harry’s pants down.
“You know, it’s bigger than I thought it’d be,” Kim hums thoughtfully as he experimentally slaps Harry’s cock and it bounces under his palm. He smiles as Harry bucks in his arms and gasps.
“Holy shit, Kim. Th-that’s good. Do that again.”
So he does it again, and then again, a little harder this time. Harry’s cock gets harder and hotter in his palm- slap! slap! -blood drawn to the surface. Harry yipes quietly, and soon he begins huffing and shaking from oversensitivity.
“It hurts. Oh, oh,” he whines.
“Is it too much?”
“Yes. Please don’t stop.” When he begins instinctually wincing away from Kim’s slaps, he apologizes quietly to Kim- “Sorry”- as though he owes these cock slaps to Kim, and Kim smiles with affection, slows his other hand, the one fingering Harry, and drags his fingerpad slowly across the slick little nub of flesh inside of Harry.
“Ouhhh…!” The low, urgent, indulgent moan that erupts from Harry makes Kim’s ears burn with arousal.
“Shh,” Kim chastises half-heartedly. But some part of him is beyond help, doesn’t care if they get caught. There is something so intoxicating, so thrilling, so torturous about watching Harry lose himself in pleasure. Of course wielding this sort of power over another is thrilling in itself, but Kim is also, though he would not admit it, very sensitive, and excessively empathetic some times in inconvenient situations. He becomes so attuned to his partner’s pleasure that it becomes an exercise of will, an excrutiating torture in itself, to just watch and continue pleasuring his partner, feeling his own cock leap and leap in sympathy.
He naively thinks perhaps it was a fluke last time, that surely Harry’s sensitivity isn’t such that he would squirt again, but he’s wrong. He recklessly pushes Harry to the brink and slows down, then slaps Harry’s cock around a few more times as he milks Harry’s throbbing cunt with his fingerpad. “You’re so loud,” Kim chuckles. “You really like it that much?”
Harry whimpers. “God, yes.” Which makes Kim chuckle again.
This time it’s before Harry even comes- hot cum splashes across Kim’s hand, and Kim gasps again. He can feel precum staining his own trousers and his balls ache from the rush of Harry’s cum streaking across him. The stream starts, then stops, but as Kim continues pleasuring Harry, the stream starts up again, and Harry’s breath gets faster, clearly preparing to orgasm. This encourages Kim, and he gently rubs Harry’s cock with his thumb. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Dirty boy.”
“Fuck-mmf!” And he shouts loud and long, muffled into Kim’s kiss as he comes. Kim begins pounding his fingers rapidly into Harry, the sound of his palm slapping the wet surface making his ears burn.
“Shit,” Kim hisses, realizing he’s absolutely covered, in a splatter pattern that couldn’t even be adequately explained if he told someone, please don’t mind the mess, I’m covered in someone else’s cum.
He decides he can deal with the repercussions later. In for a centim and all that. He gets down on his knees and hikes one of Harry’s knees up onto his shoulder.
“Kim? Oh, no, you don’t- I wanted to suck your cock. Besides, I know you’re probably not used to the taste.”
“I can assure you, Detective,” -because that’s what he calls Harry when they’re on the clock, but the fact that Kim sees himself as being ‘on the clock’ right now makes Harry lurch with affection- “I’ve tasted a good many things that will be far more unpleasant than this.” He begins by gathering some wetness from between Harry’s lips and trailing it up and down the underside of Harry’s oversensitive cock. He looks up at Harry’s helpless, almost pained reaction and smiles. “Besides, I’ve heard the taste is quite pleasant, especially compared to… well.” He nods down to his own member.
Harry laughs at that. “But that’s the best part- Nnh…! Kim!” He gasps, as Kim strokes his cock while he’s speaking. “Mmh… Not to brag, but I think I taste like centim with like, two drops of fruit punch iced tea.”
It doesn’t sound altogether unpleasant to Kim. “Mm. Well. There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
“But I want to know how you taste.”
“Shush. We have time,” Kim murmurs, looking away as he feels his face get hot. His tongue dips into Harry’s folds experimentally and up the tip of his cock, which is painfully hard. And he notes with an embarrassed satisfaction that everyone in the office will be able to tell his hair has been ruffled after this- after Harry’s hands grasp onto the back of Kim’s head like a lifeline. And he begins experimentally suckling the tip, bringing it into his mouth. It’s so wet it slips out at first, so he sucks Harry’s whole cock in, rolls it around in his mouth and along his tongue, Harry’s pubes tickling the tip of his nose as he moves his head back and forth.
“K-Kim…! Fuck! Oh, it’s too much, oh.” he cries out, pushing Kim further in between his legs, moaning his assent.
Kim begins to bob his head up and down Harry’s cock, experimentally tilting his head at different angles to see really what drives Harry up the wall. He pulls his head back, panting. Then looks up at Harry, whos anxious expression betrays that he’s awaiting Kim’s verdicte.
Kim laughs despite himself. “You taste good, Harry. Very mild.”
“Oh, thank fuck…”
Kim brings his hand back up and parts Harry’s lips again, kissing the folds as he runs one of his fingers around Harry’s entrance. ”Do you want me to keep going?” he says, gazing up at Harry. Harry shivers at the divine sight of Kim between his legs.
“I’m going to come if you do,” Harry whispers.
“Already?” Kim raises his eyebrows, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. He had heard this might be a possibility with a partner like Harry, but to be faced with the possibility, and knowing he could make Harry come again so easily. It’s almost too much. He looks down at Harry’s glistening red cocktip and blows on it a bit, causing Harry to gasp above him. Then he takes the tip in his lips and hums against it, murmuring against it, “I wonder how many times I can make you come, Detective?”
“Kim-”
And he pushes two fingers into Harry’s cunt and begins to suck Harry’s cock. He almost feels guilty, for the way Harry pulls at his hair and squirms and moans, for the way his thighs clamp around Kim’s head and almost suffocate him.
“I love you, I love you, I-” Harry prays, then wails like a dying man as he comes forcefully.
A voice in the back of Kim’s head tells him to shut Harry up, certain that someone can hear them, but ultimately, he’s lost where Harry’s concerned. He only listens to the much louder part of him that tells him to pump his fingers inside Harry mercilessly, as Harry spurts across Kim’s face.
By the time Kim pulls away, he’s soaked from his nose all the way down his chest, his pupils blown open with lust and a sense of power. He looks up at Harry and smirks when he sees Harry gasp and flush red at the sight of him.
“K-Kim, your face. Holy shit, I’m sorry.”
Kim wonders how he looks. For a moment, he lets himself fantasize about reentering the office without cleaning up at all, covered head to toe in cum of various viscosities, sitting down at his desk and turning to Mack and Chester stonefaced, watching their mortified expressions turn red as they realize exactly what he’s been up to.
Instead, he gives a playful bite to Harry’s thigh, satisfied when he hears his yelp. “Mm. You should be sorry. This is your mess, isn’t it?”
He slaps Harry’s hairy haunch sharply, causing an oversensitive Harry to gasp. He stands up raises his cream-covered fingers up to Harry’s lips, watching the slickness slide across Harry’s mouth.
“…Clean up after yourself.”
Harry nods, moaning as he takes Kim’s fingers in his mouth. He eagerly sucks his cream off of Kim’s fingers with a pop. “I want to be yours forever,” he sighs. And Kim grabs his stubbled chin, pulls his mouth open and kisses him.
“Anything you want, Detective. Come on. Let’s go.”
“Wait, seriously?”
They crash through the side door of the silk mill after that, cigarettes already lit as they dance among the pigeons and gulls in the alley, gleefully shotgunning smoke back and forth into each other’s mouths.
(They’re seen, of course they’re seen, and the only one who has something to say about it is Officer Vicquemare, who, cheeks ablaze, mentions Harry’s “unprofessional behavior in the workplace” during his next impromptu performance review.)
Kim drives them both to Harry’s apartment, and Harry finally gets to taste Kim’s cock, thoughtfully remarking on the flavor as he makes them sandwiches after. Harry won’t soon forget the sight of Kim eating a figgy piggy in the nude, sucking fig jam off his fingers, limp cock pressed affectionately on the side of Harry’s kitchen counter.